Lose Thy Mind
by centric
Summary: A harsh reminder of the past behind closed eyes proves that Feliks is not as happy go lucky as he or everyone else deemed him to be. Meanwhile, Toris faces the cruel deeds he had committed and had to accept that some matters were no longer his to repair. In the end, they might just be able to find some comfort in their brittle relationship. Warning: Massacre mention


" _Get out! Get out of our country_!"

 _Sounds of gunfire overwhelmed the stagnant air and rotting blood was the aftermath of fallen corpses within the pit. Screams are cruelly unheard of as wrath pulled the trigger once more and soon, there would be a lake of bloody red and lifeless forms._

 _Therein stood a body whose veins pulsed violently along with the rapid slaughter and was rendered paralysed. This sensation, this utter cruelty._ _Then a face draws near but gaze refuses to lay itself upon it. When it does, the view blurred for a fleeting moment before the focus shocked the mind to its core. Brown swayed within the stale air and eyes glowing in resentment. Lips parted to give way to callous words but none wished to be heard as hands tightened over ears. There was then, pain._

"Ahhhhh!"

Feliks was forced into a sitting position, hands furiously combing through his drenched locks as though foraging for something. His eyes were wide and the back of his neck burned. Unbeknownst to himself, his shriek had awoken the man beside him.

"Po…?! Hey, I'm right here."

Gentle hands rubbed his back but the act was ignored in favor of a wrenching sensation swelling in his stomach. His own nails dug into the front of his shirt, his breathing labored and it felt as though a lump was stuck in his throat.

Choked sobs were formed in an attempt to breathe properly while the scenes replayed cruelly in his mind. Cold — or was it hot ? — his face was. While shaking his head, his eyes had the misfortune and displeasure to land itself upon the very bane of his nightmares.

(" _Get the hell out_!")

"Are yo—Ah!"

Toris barely had a chance to finish his question when frail, desperate hand begun to push his form away in fright. Like a cornered animal, Feliks was despairingly fending off his grief. Stammers and broken words brimmed his tongue in anguish, carelessly thrown into a direction that he deemed as the enemy of his safety.

"No, no! No! No, no, no! I—don't—No! Stop! Don't!"

"Po, it's me!"

"D—Don't shoot—! No… shoot! Ah!"

The queasy sensation finally reached its pinnacle and Feliks immediately hunched over in pain, gagging noises becoming coherent. Toris acted on instinct, abandoning any thoughts of convincing his partner of his presence ( which might not have went well ), and hurriedly fetched a bucket nearby to assist the blonde in retching into it.

His dinner was left in the bucket and Toris had to bite his bottom lip. Feliks is already so thin, underweight even, that throwing up was going to cause his body to become even weaker. Strength left the blonde along with his previous intake and Toris had to catch him by the shoulders as his posture could slump akin to a doll hung upon a marionette. What remains was only choked sobs and shivering with face painted with a deathly pale color.

As though he was recharged with renewed energy, his hands forcefully wrenched Toris's own off him like they were _vile_ and could only trash weakly.

"Stop! Leave us alone! Don't come any closer — _Lithuania_!"

The brunet's own movements ceased when the title rang alarms in his ear. There was only one period of time whereby Feliks would refer to him as his full country name. His own memories became clear and his chest constricted at the remembrance

How could he ever forget?

(" _Under Soviets, we killed 50% of Poles, under Germans we will kill the other 50%_ ")

How he was blinded by outrage and became a monster worse than he'd ever dare to be willingly become. The attempt of taking his Vilnius — his heart — had warped him into a cold hearted fool. His murderous acts supported by senseless justifications that were gladly encouraged by the Germans.

Not only was he prompted, he was also _sickeningly_ willing.

His own breathing hitched as he could only helplessly stare at Feliks's frightened form. His partner had always been so emotionally sturdy because of his forthright nature. Anything that he has distaste for, he'd speak to remedy the problem. Yet, when it comes to regard what hurts him the most, he would bottle it within himself and feigned contentment. No one could ever tell — because no one would expect the straightforward Feliks to be capable of swallowing agitation.

Here he was — witnessing his partner in his fearful state, desperately protecting himself from _him_. _From Toris_.

Never once in their blissful years would he imagined that Feliks would ever feel the necessity to defend himself against him. The realization reverberated in the still air.

Despite his growing heavy eyelids, Toris was able to clear his mind and take a step back. Feliks was shrieking, crying himself hoarse because of his involvement in the callous deeds. The massacre. It was so unequivocal that his presence would only spiral his partner's tormented mind into further wreckage. No more does he desired for Feliks to feel pain and fear.

Clenching his fists, he finally made the bold move to turn and exited the room in haste.

* * *

What seemed to be forever was actually mere hours ever since Toris departed from their room. He now sits at the railing of their cottage with his sixth cigarette in hand.

While the brunet wished to return to their bedroom to inspect on Feliks's condition, he feared that he might condemn his partner into a worse breakdown. He had attempted to ring Hungary or France, the two best people to remedy Feliks's torment, but no one was available to pick up his calls. Toris hated leaving Feliks alone. He hated knowing that Feliks was suffering alone.

Never before had he felt so utterly _powerless_.

 _Someone, please save him._

Snuffing his cigarette out, he picked at another one and lit it. It was the only way he could calm himself down and prevent himself from making any rash decisions that might render the situation worse. Toris cannot trust his own resources.

Then, a small voice appeared from the doorway.

"Liet?"

Toris would have dropped the cigarette if it wasn't carefully held in his hand because he had turned his head so fast that nothing else mattered other than the source of his concerns.

There he was. Feliks was standing at the opened entrance with the blanket wrapped protectively around his slender body. His face had regained some colour but it was nevertheless, pale looking. His gaze described with an emotion that was foreign to his typical colourful expressions and Toris could swear that every other faces Feliks holds are much preferable to this.

Forcing a weak smile to reassure his lover, Toris hopped off the railing and approached him, only to stop when Feliks took a step back.

"I…I'm sorry. I… don't know what has gotten into me."

The blonde shook his head at himself before forcing a smile of his own and took some shaky steps forward.

"You… don't have to come closer if you're uncomfortable," Toris tried to reassure despite his own trepidation filling up inside of him.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine."

"Po…"

"You know how I always am. Dramatic and stuff, right? I-I mean, other than that puking scene. M-Man, I must look totally ugly. Do you want to call off that romantic dance now?"

"Po, stop it," Toris whispered. "You don't have to act this way now."

In response, Feliks tightened his grip on the blanket. "S-Seriously. What are you bellyaching about now, hm? Don't tell me that you were turned on by me puking. Gross — and here I am thinking that you totally fell for my charms. You—Wah!"

Before Feliks could continue, he was pulled into an embrace. A part of him felt the rising need to wrench himself free but a much bigger one wanted them to stay as they were.

Seeing how Feliks was trying to put up a front and feigning strength, Toris didn't think he could bear to watch any longer. There was so much harm done on his lover. It wasn't just him who had warped Feliks into a victim. In fact, even Toris himself felt uneasy whenever Germany is within range of his blonde partner.

However, Feliks hardly complained. Despite his apparent discomfort around the German, he still forced himself to embark on those meetings to establish bilateral relations for his nation — just as he had with Toris before they managed to tie up loose strings.

"Geez… are you seriously going to cry on me?"

Despite the weakened tone, Feliks was still keeping up with his act.

"I'm sorry, Po. I'm so sorry."

"Liet…"

The weak hand rests itself on the expanse of Toris's back.

It was so unfair. Why must Toris be the personification of Lithuania? Feliks disliked Lithuania but he had never found himself able to despise Toris. To him, to his memories, to their treasured history, Toris will always be his partner. Their marriage may have begun with similar interests but something entirely stronger blossomed between them. Feliks loved Toris and he still loves him so.

Their road to becoming the couple they desired was suddenly crumbling caused by a new element. It was an emotion that Feliks would never dream of experiencing towards his partner.

 _Fear._

Feliks not only loved Toris but he fears him too.

The unforgiving expression stapled on the brunet's face had inscribed itself in his memories. For another time, Feliks began to doubt their relationship. Was it wise to continue despite their dread refusing contentment? Would their relationship even be defined as healthy in the course of their self-destruction?

It was obvious that Toris no longer held the intention to harm Feliks. Far from it, in fact, as Toris had been nothing but accommodating to his whims. Everything seemed like the commonwealth once more, only that they were mainly living separately and the nightmares that plagued. Just as Feliks had his night of terrors about Toris, the brunet had his share about Feliks and others.

They may have forgiven each other but had they moved on?

(" _It doesn't matter if you hate me_.")

His fingers curled into the back of Toris's shirt, digging into the fabric harshly as though he was extracting every bit of comfort.

"Kocham cię (I love you)…" the blonde says but in an uncharacteristically frail tone.

"Aš tave irgi myliu (I love you too), Feliks."

Closing his eyes, Feliks breathed in the words and his lover's scent. No longer had the smell of iron and ash loitered in his mind as they were replaced by fragrant vanilla. Toris had used soap that had the same scent as when he used during the Middle Ages.

(" _It totally doesn't change that I like you_.")

Their feelings for each other relentlessly fought through the hatred that was still present between their people. Their feelings are their own betrayal. With that being said, would it be logical to say that their countries are betraying their feelings?

They are only Feliks and Toris around each other.

They are Poland and Lithuania in name.

None of the people living amongst them were those from when they are in the Middle Ages. They comprehend nothing about the deep feelings they had cultivated and harvested for each other. The separation ripped them apart and Feliks was no saner after the rip from the partitions, which was deemed sufficiently traumatic for the scars to seem fresh underneath his current attire.

The decisions of the people and those surrounded them threatened to tear Feliks and Toris away from Poland and Lithuania. They could only desperately cling — until one day, it can be understood that the two men now only hold the guileless wish to remain together.

They would work for their love if they had not needed to work for their countries.

Because no matter how far their feelings travelled, their loyalty were unquestioned to and overshadowed by their alternate identities.

Hence, they continued to live as Feliks and Toris in secrecy, surrounded by the golden rye and orange sunset.

* * *

A/N: During the second world war in 1941, Lithuanians had assisted Germany in their act upon the deaths and deportation of Poles. The scale of victims was large and it stemmed from the desire to fulfill their slogan of 'Lithuania for Lithuanians'.

It's been awhile since I've uploaded any fic. I had this up on tumblr for awhile and was intended to upload it elsewhere but laziness got to me. I utterly love Lietpol, especially Poland himself. I've taken up to learning Polish History and there are so many information that weren't taught in my History classes in school before. There are so many things concealed behind what's considered as ' _fundamental knowledge_ ' and I can get a little salty about that. Poland never formally surrendered to Germany and was the fourth largest contributor to the Allied Powers despite being the first to fall and having betrayed.

I haven't been able to find much fics that emphasizes on the pain that Poland himself went through, unfortunately.


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